


City of Colors

by WeLoveLeo



Category: miscellaneous - Fandom
Genre: Blue Eyes, Brown Eyes, First work - Freeform, Futuristic, Green Eyes, Magic, Orange Eyes, Purple Eyes, eye color determines social class, please bear with me, probably super cringey, red eyes, sorcery, white eyes, yellow eyes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 17:04:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12392355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeLoveLeo/pseuds/WeLoveLeo
Summary: Your eyes turned Silver. You're so screwed.After the Third World War, almost all but two of the countries we know were obliterated. Standing were New Russia and Irisea, which used to be America.The radiation was so strong that it changed the eye colors of all humans. Purple irises were Royals. Blue irises were celebrities. Green were the rich; Red the Police Force, military,and middle class; Orange the lower class; and finally Yellow, the homeless. There were people with brown eyes, too, but they were such a minority that they were forced into slavery.There was a forgotten eye color, too. They were so powerful, they were driven to extinction; the Silvers.If you are, say, an Orange, and married a Blue, you become a Blue and move to that class. A child holds their father’s eye color until around the age of 15, when the color changes.I was a Blue my entire life. I never had to worry about getting dirty, or hurt, or exercise. My dad was in music, so that was what I had grown up with. If your eye color didn’t change, you were considered lucky. You could stay with your family.My name is Lillian Orlando. I was fourteen when my eyes started changing.





	1. Chapter 1

I woke up to the sound of my dad’s guitar through the walls. Ugh. It was barely eight in the morning! I only ever woke up that early for traveling.

“DAD!” I shouted. “TURN THE AMPS DOWN A LITTLE, PLEASE!” The volume went down considerably. “THANKS!” I yelled slightly quieter. I rang the bell at my bedside table, summoning my slave, Alice.

She curtsied deeply. “Good morning, Mistress Lillian.”

“Good morning,” I yawned. “Please get me my breakfast.”

Alice curtsied again and quickly walked off, returning minutes later with scrambled eggs, a sliced grapefruit, some bacon, and orange juice.

“Thank you, Alice.” I sat up so I could eat easier. “You are dismissed.”

Alice swiftly left the room.

I began to dig into my food. After I had finished, I placed the dirty dishes in the dumbwaiter. I entered my walk-in closet, which was filled with designer clothes and dresses that were the Princess’s hand-me-downs. I slipped into a pair of denim short-shorts and a silky green tank top. Lastly I put on my Blue armband, which was a constant reminder of my place on the social ladder: above everyone but the Royals, or Purples. I put on a pair of pink sandals and rang my bell again. Alice came rushing back into the room. “How can I help you, Miss?” “Please do my hair for me. Two dutch braids. And after, my makeup-Au Natural, si vous plait.” I had taken French lessons from my mother. It was an old language, and the country it had belonged to was now part of New Russia. The only remnant of it was the base of what I am told was once the beautiful Eiffel Tower. It’s just four rusted-out columns now.

Alice giggled. “Will do, Miss.” About an hour later, I had my hair in braids, with shimmering beige eyeshadow, with basic skin makeup, mascara, eyebrow pencil, lip-stain, the works. “Thank you, Alice,” I said, “You are dismissed.” She curtsied and left. That’s when the tingling started. It was a sort of burning sensation, like my eyes had been dipped in lemon juice. I rushed to the mirror. My usually sky-Blue eyes were now a shade lighter. The burning kept going, and over the course of two minutes, my eyes became a beautiful ice-Blue. Maybe, if they turned a little pinkish, I would become a Purple… that was the only color lighter than Blue. Well, there was another color once, but that was unthinkable…

The burning stopped. They were still the ice-Blue. Thank Iris. Maybe they wouldn’t change anymore… I went over to my dad’s music studio. As I walked in, he stopped playing his guitar.

“What’s up, Lily?” he asked.

“Notice anything different?” I twirled for emphasis.

My father looked me up and down critically, pretending not to see anything. “A haircut?”

“Nope.”

“New outfit?”

“Nope.”

“OH! Now I see! Your eyes changed!”

I laughed. “Finally,” then I turned and left the studio, going back to my room, where I summoned Alice again. “How may I help you, Miss?” “Redo my eye makeup. As dark as you can make it. Maroon liquid lipstick.” Alice nodded and got to work. Once she was done, it was nearly noon. I looked in the mirror. The dark makeup made my eyes look even more severe, and kind of scary, in a beautiful sort of way. I changed my clothes, too: now I was wearing a fitted navy blue tank top and tight leather pants. I kept my armband, which was the only downside to our system. I left a note for my dad in my room saying I was with Ashlynn, there was nothing to worry about, and I’d see him soon. I grabbed my purse, which contained my wallet, some spare makeup, and my phone, and left toward the Palace.

It was a short walk from the Penthouse, and besides, the paparazzi loved me. On my little strut, I bumped into a boy, only a bit older than I was, wearing an Orange armband and polarized sunglasses. I mean, I literally bumped into him.

“Hey, watch where you’re going,” I muttered.

He just kept walking.

“Rude,” I whispered, and saw the flashbulbs ahead, immediately taking out my sunglasses. I walked through the mob of people asking me about my dad and what happened to my mom and what it was like to be besties with Princess Ashlynn and about a million other stupid things that didn’t even have that much to do with me. I started walking faster as I neared the Palace, and the crowd dispersed as the guards shooed them away. “Thank you,” I said to the Red eyed soldier who stood at the gates. “I had an appointment with Princess Ashlynn?”

The guard nodded, ever silent, and the gates opened before me.

I let myself in the doors, and knew the way through the foyer, but still got miserably lost somewhere in the second floor. After soliciting the help of a slave girl I found my way to Ashlynn’s bedroom. Which was, by the way, one of my favorite places in the whole world besides my own room. I walked in to find Ashlynn writing in her journal.

“Hi,” she said brightly.

“Hello,” I said, removing my sunglasses to show off my icy eyes. I sat down next to her at her desk, and we chatted for a while about the newest movies, which newbie actor was the hottest, you know, the typical drama. After a couple of hours of spa treatment, we both felt extremely relaxed. Until, of course, when I removed the cucumber eye covers and the burning started again.


	2. Chapter 2

I nearly screamed this time, the pain was so bad. It was to the point where all the hours of stress-relieving had simply been deleted from space and time. I sat up from the lounge chair, gasping for breath, sure my eyes had been burned to the point of blindness. But lucky me, I thought as I looked around. I can still see. Just as abruptly as it started, the pain subsided. My Aunt Marcia had told me that the worst pain she had ever felt in her life was her eye change, and that was apparently worse than natural childbirth. I tried to relax again, but it was useless, so I got up to fix my makeup and put on my bikini, for the next activity on the agenda was sunbathing, but when I looked into the mirror, I actually passed out. 

My eyes had turned Silver. 

*******************************

In my dream, I saw the Orange boy from the street.

He had taken off his sunglasses, and his eyes, too, were Silver. He was talking to me.   
“Lily, listen to me,” he was saying, “You have to run. Get away from the Palace. It’s not safe for you there. Return to your home. Get a pair of polarized sunglasses. Use an ATM to get as much cash as you can, then meet me at the East edge of town. I know this is sudden, and you’re probably going to not want to believe me, but just think of the public executions they have every year. You are only a few steps away from being guillotined. I hope I’ll see you soon.”  
My vision went darker, and as it almost went black, I heard him mutter, as an afterthought, “My name is Owen.”

*******************************

I woke up on Ashlynn’s bed, gasping for breath and sure I was falling.   
She was looking at me, concerned, but as I opened my eyes wider, she narrowed hers. “What happened to your eyes,” she said.   
“I don’t know, Ash,” I said.  
“Don’t call me that! Filthy Silver!”   
My eyes stung, and it had nothing to do with my eyes changing. My best friend had just called me “Filthy Silver”. Even if it was hypocritical, it still hurt.   
“I have to go,” I said, and grabbed my stuff and left. I put on my sunglasses so no one could see my eyes. I was ashamed. I wanted to die. And I usually got what I wanted, so why stop now?  
But a little voice in the back of my mind told me to listen to Owen. If I were to die, my father would, too. I went back to the penthouse, not lifting my head from the ground until I had to. I got out all the emergency cash, black clothes, toiletries, and other stuff, and put them into a black backpack. I wrote a note to my father. 

Dad,  
I’m sorry I had to leave. My eyes turned Silver. I love you.  
-Lily

I left the note on the refrigerator door, changed into black workout gear and a pair of track shoes, and ran to the ATM closest to the East side of town. I got about $3,000 in 50 dollar bills, then ran to my meeting spot.


	3. Chapter 3

News flash: just because someone tells you to meet them somewhere in your dream doesn’t mean they’ll actually be there. I got to the designated spot, only to find it empty except for a gym bag stuffed with clothes. I sat down next to the bag, figuring I might at least look less suspicious that way. I did something I hadn’t done since my mom’s funeral, six years ago.  
I cried.  
I cried because I had just lost everything. I cried because I had believed a stupid dream. I cried because I had faith in a stranger.   
After I had just sat there sobbing for about twenty minutes, I felt a comforting arm around my shoulders.  
“Shhh… It’s okay, Lily. Everything will be fine,” I immediately recognized Owen’s voice.  
“Owen?” I lifted my head to see a kind face with Silver eyes staring back at me.   
He honestly looked surprised that I knew his name. “What? Did you expect me to forget your name even after all the trouble I went through to get here?”  
“A little,” he admitted. “I mean, the Empaconnection was weak since-”  
“Empa-what-now?” I interrupted.   
“Em-pa-con-nect-tion,” he slowed down. “It’s a level of Sorcery-”  
“Sorry I keep interrupting,” I said, “but did you just say sorcery?”  
“I keep forgetting you haven’t been oriented,” Owen shook his head.   
“Look,” I muttered impatiently, “I don’t know how you got in my head, or why my eyes turned Silver, or who you actually are, but I think you’re acting a bit... psycho.”  
Owen reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a small cell phone. “Well, you’re right for once.” He pointed the phone at me and pressed the power button. Sparks flew out of two prongs I hadn’t noticed before.   
I lost consciousness for the second time today.

 

*******************************

 

I dreamed we were in a large van, and the windows were tinted so harshly I couldn’t see through them, even though I was on the inside. The only reason I knew it was a dream was because everything was in random colors, and I was seeing in third-person. My makeup was smeared all over, my clothes were ripped, and I was tied to the back seat. Owen was sitting in the passenger seat, sharpening a knife, and the driver was wearing a hood so I couldn’t see his face. Or, at least, I assumed it was a he. It’s shoulders were broader than acceptable for female, and the hands that gripped the steering wheel were scarred and calloused. I jolted awake as I felt somebody shake my shoulders. 

I opened my eyes to a pair of concerned Silvers, only inches from mine. They moved away almost immediately. I saw the eyes belonged to Owen, and I flinched in remembering my most recent conscious moments. “Where are you taking me?” I said, almost a whisper.  
“The Silver Society.”


	4. Chapter 4

“What is the Silver Society, exactly?” I asked for about the millionth time that car ride.  
“You’ll just have to wait and see,” Owen answered for the equal-th time.   
I got tired of asking and getting nowhere, so I just kept my mouth shut for the next seven hours.  
“Are we there yet?” I asked, again for the umpteenth time.  
“We’ll get there a lot faster if you let me focus on driving,” he snapped. “But we’ll be there in, like, fifteen minutes.”  
“Oh.”  
Sure enough, thirteen minutes and forty-seven seconds later (yes, I kept track), we arrived at a tunnel with four armed guards at the opening and a chained gate with a keypad. On top of that security, the guards asked Owen what ‘the password’ was, and he responded with “Scrumdiddlys,” which is a strange password to me, but I suppose no one would be able to guess on it. We drove into the tunnel in a steep incline and came to what I would describe as an airport security-level facility. There were high chain link fences and yet more guards on either sides of the metal detector, so the message was clear: no one gets in or out without approval. I had been through an airport before, so I knew how it goes, but even my earrings set the alarm off. I had to take off every last bit of metal I had on, even the clasp in my hair tie, to let them be examined by what must’ve been something like customs. I had to change into different clothes with a female security guard standing by so I couldn’t slip anything. They took my bag of things to be examined by the customs place. I was put into a cylindrical chamber that was full of some sort of cleansing chemical. They almost made me cut my hair, too, but I wouldn’t let them. I had lost literally everything else from my life before: my family, my keepsakes, my friends; I wasn’t going to let them take my hair.   
After the Cleansing Process, I was sent to meet Sergeant Maris.   
I walked through the identical white halls beside a guard who had the same buzz cut as the others, with the same Silver eyes and the same grey uniform. I had been left with a black dress that I was told to return to “Liv” when I got my own clothes. After brain melting twists and turns to the point where I had lost track, we came to a steel door with a keypad. The guard made me turn away as he punched in the code. I heard a beep and the door swung open to a pristine office with crystal everything. The guard pushed me in, closed the door, and locked it behind me. It looked as if the office was empty except for the desk, swivel chair, file cabinets, and the comfy looking couch across from the swivel chair. I continued to stand in the doorway. After a few minutes of sheer awkwardness, the swivel chair turned around, old-movie-villain-style. In the chair was a young, completely undisciplined looking woman with curly, obviously dyed Silver hair, thick winged eyeliner and colorful tattoos all over her arms.   
“Lillian Marina Orlando,” she said, “how lucky I am to finally meet you.”  
That was definitely not the welcome I was expecting. “Would you please explain the hostage situation?” I asked.  
Sergeant Maris laughed. “It’s hardly a hostage situation. You’re here because of a rare condition that has gotten human beings persecuted in the past.”  
“Silver eyes.”  
“Catching on, I see. You understand, Silvers have power beyond the government’s comprehension, that’s why we were nearly driven to extinction.”  
“Power? Like, magic?”  
“Precisely.” Sergeant Maris took a pair of glasses out of her pocket and put them on. She reached into a file cabinet and pulled out a packet of papers. “So I see here that you were close friends with the Princess.”  
“Emphasis on were,” I muttered bitterly. “After my eyes changed, she called me filthy.”  
“A common reaction,” Sergeant Maris said soothingly.   
“Thanks, Sergeant, for saving my life.”  
“Any time,” she chuckled. “And Lillian? Call me Caroline.”  
“Call me Lily,” I countered.  
“Deal,” we shook hands and I stood to leave. “Before you go, I have some of your clothes and money. In the bag is also a map and your dorm key.”  
“Thanks. I’ll see you later.”  
“Count on it.”  
“I will,” I laughed as the door unlocked and let me out. Then I took the map out of the book and tried to get to my dorm. It took an hour to navigate what should’ve taken only a couple of minutes, but finally made it to a door that was inscribed with the name Juliette Gallagher etched into the plaque. It also said Dorm 405, so I figured my name would be etched in later. I pulled out my key and opened the door. 

Chapter Five: Allies  
I walked into the dorm and saw a set of bunk beds, two desks, a pair of dressers, and a door. I walked through the door, expecting a tiny bathroom, to be astounded by the sheer amount of gymnast gear. There was a jungle gym suspended in the air by cables and a rope ladder swinging down. There was a balance beam connected by more cables and on the other side was what looked like the entire American Ninja Warrior course. And beyond that, of course, was the Olympic-sized swimming pool complete with two diving boards, and there was, of course, your typical gym equipment: dumbbells, ellipticals, the works. I returned to the dorm, knowing I’d have plenty of time to work with the training equipment. I kept looking for a bathroom, thinking that with all of the stuff in the Training Room, there just simply had to be one here. I continued looking around for the restroom for about five minutes, until I gave up and just looked at the map.  
“Perfect,” I muttered as I saw the words Women’s Locker Room printed on a little space beside the Training Room. I left my dorm and entered the locker room. It seemed like every new room I encountered in the Silver Society was grander than the last. This couldn’t be classified as a locker room. No, it was more like a spa facility. There was a hot tub in the corner, lockers on the walls, a line of showers with tile walls to preserve our privacy, a line of massage chairs, and a door that was labeled with Staff Only. There were racks of nail polish and makeup, and expensive looking furniture literally everywhere. I walked around, absorbing the steam in the air like a sponge, and just winding down after my stressful day. I went back to my dorm to grab a towel and pajamas, returned to the Locker Room to have a shower, and claimed the bottom bunk. I was out the second my head hit the pillow. 

*******************************

I dreamed that a girl with long brown hair was braiding mine while I was sleeping. Most people would call that creepy, but this wasn’t. It was kind of more… wistful. Like the brunette was wishing for someone she missed. She just kept braiding my hair. It was soothing, like when a cat is pet by its owner.   
She braided my hair into blonde cornrows, tied them off with a few of my hair ties, and climbed into the top bunk. The last sluggish dream-thought I had was “That must’ve been Juliette…”  
*******************************  
I woke up to the bunk bed creaking above me. For a scary moment I had forgotten where I was, but the day before came back to me in a blur. I sat up and noticed that my hair was, indeed, in cornrows, and it was dry, so I unbraided it and let the tight waves fall down my shoulders. I swung out of the bed and saw a note on one of the desks.

Hi,  
I didn’t want to wake you this morning- You looked like you had a rough night! Meet me in the Locker Room when you wake up. Why, you ask? MAKEOVERS!  
See you when you wake up.  
-Jules

I groaned, but put on a pair of black shorts and a black silky tank top. I put my hair back in a ponytail; it was kind of bushy. I left, deciding there was nothing to be done about my face.   
When I got to the Locker room, Juliette had set up a bunch of dark makeup, dark nail polishes, and yet more dark clothes. I sat down next to the nail polishes, and not a minute later Juliette came bounding into view, a clay mask in hand.   
“Perfect, you’re here,” she said happily. “I’m Juliette, but since we’re friends you can call me Jules.”  
“Okay,” I said; Jules seemed a little perky for my taste. “I’m Lillian, but everyone calls me Lily.”  
“Cool,” she said, and grabbed my face. “Porcelain,” she decided, and swept away half of the skin makeup. She started painting on the clay mask. “Leave this on until it dries,” she said. “When you pop it off, it’s a mold of your face, and it also removes blackheads and excess oil.”   
I nodded, and she told me to stay still while it dried, so I did. I grabbed a tabloid magazine from under the nail polishes and saw a grainy shot A of my face before I had been able to put on the sunglasses. You could see my Silver eyes. The headline was “Orlando Gone Silver??!” and under it were speculations that my mom hadn’t really died; that she was Silver too; that I had run away; that I had been kidnapped; and a million other bogus accusations.   
I opened the magazine, flipped to the page about me, and read.   
“Hollywood teen reported missing after leaving home without a trace. There was a charge at the ATM in East Hollywood for $3,000. Father, Michael Orlando, is devastated by the loss of his daughter. Reward for information leading to finding Lillian Orlando, 15, caucasian, blonde, 5’4, 110 lbs, last seen with Silver eyes. Eyewitnesses saw an Orange boy taser her and pull her into an unmarked vehicle yesterday afternoon.”   
There was a higher definition photo of me. It was my school picture and my eyes had been photoshopped Silver. It was scary.   
The majority of the day was spent with Juliette, figuring out my new “bad-ass Silver look”.


	5. Chapter 5

Coming out of Juliette’s makeover, I had a new collection of makeup, my nails were painted maroon, and my hair was still in waves but tamed.   
“So you’re given a day before you go into training. Since I got you as a roomie I just played hookie today. You’re not supposed to if you’re not, but I called in sick,” Juliette updated me.   
“So I start training tomorrow?” I asked.  
“Yup. Some of the kids were born here at the Society, but most of us were rescued,” Jules continued. “Like Liv, Caroline Maris’s little sister? She was born here.”  
“Are Silver eyes genetic?” I asked.  
“Most of the time. Like, it would be really unlikely if a person with both Silver eyed parents turned Green. But if you have one Silver eyed parent, it’s more likely that you’ll keep the wild color. There are also flat-out new recruits, who never had Silver family members, but maybe an ancestor.”  
There was silence as I processed her words. After a couple of minutes, a girl with pin-straight blonde hair, long legs, and the shortest shorts I had ever seen came swinging over.   
“So we got a Probie,” she looked me up and down critically. “Liv Maris.”  
“Lillian Orlando,” I responded. I looked down at her extended hand and pulled a Harry Potter. I didn’t shake it.  
She scowled, marring her impossibly perfect face. It straightened as soon as it appeared, but not before I had noticed. “Slumber party tonight?” she directed the question at both of us.  
Jules looked at me before answering. “No thanks, Liv. Lillian just got here yesterday, and she’s still pretty winded, so I think we gotta pass.” she grabbed my hand and dragged me back to our dorm.   
“First of all, you don’t refuse Liv anything. Ever. she’ll make your life hell and then end it.” she saw the look on my face. “No, I’m not exaggerating. She killed a guy, and because her big sister’s the Sergeant, no one did anything about it.”  
“Oh.”  
Juliette’s eyes filled with tears. “It was because she loved him. And he rejected her. So she drowned him in the pool.”  
“And no one did anything?” I asked, astounded.  
“Well, I mean, I shaved her head, but-”  
“Did you know him?” I asked.  
“He was my boyfriend.”  
“Oh.”  
“That’s why he rejected her.”  
“And she didn’t know how to handle it?”  
“She always gets what she wants. If she gets refused she explodes.”

*******************************  
I had been training for four days when I was called to the Testing Room. Juliette had informed me that not only would we be learning the usual hand-to-hand combat skills, but also magic. Not like ABRACADABRA HOUDINI ESCAPED AGAIN magic, but like moving-things-with-your-mind-“Matilda”-magic.   
I walked into the Testing Room, which I knew would’ve been empty except that there was one-way glass on one side of the wall. I felt antsy knowing there was someone watching me that I couldn’t see. I laid down, as I’d been instructed, and the plugs came down from the ceiling and fastened into my suit.   
Then the visions started.  
I wasn’t in the Testing Room anymore; I was back in the Penthouse. I saw red footprints on the marble floors and somehow knew they belonged to my father. I ran to the Foyer and saw a crumpled body on the tile. I sprinted as fast as I could over to the body. I felt for a pulse and couldn’t find one. Rage boiled up in my chest, so vivid I honestly thought it was real. But I kept a clear head; I knew the real Test was coming soon. I stood up and turned around. Owen had been standing behind me. He was holding a bloody knife. He was smiling, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. It was maniacal, dripping with venom, like he was saying I was next. I lifted my hand, palm facing toward Owen, and pushed downward abruptly. Owen countered with a similar move, only it swept me to the side. I sharply hit the wall. Somehow, I could tell I had broken a rib. Rage, real this time, pooled in my stomach. I screamed, long and shrill, and Owen had to cover his ears to avoid permanent damage. All the glass within a mile radius shattered. Owen had collapsed. The Test pixilated around me and vanished, and I was left in the Testing Room, the one-way glass shattered. Caroline looked like she might cry or scream or hug somebody.   
“How did you do that?” she asked, a hint of fear in her eyes.   
I shrugged. I honestly didn’t know. “I was mad. So I screamed.”  
“I saw,” her eyes narrowed. “It’s time you had a chat with the President.” 

*******************************

The President, it turned out, wasn’t an elected government official held to certain rules and standards. The President was a twenty-three year old man who looked like he hadn’t slept much in the last month. His hair, which was light brown, was matted, long, and had split ends that made me cringe. There were dark circles under his Silver eyes.   
“Sir,” I said. “I was sent to you by Sergeant Caroline Maris. Something about Vocal Panic-”  
“I know very well who you are,” the President said. “And I know very well what you have done. Vocal Panic is a serious ability that we haven’t seen in more than fifty years. Only few Silvers have had that level of Sorcery, and that was after years of training. But you, who have only been training four days, seem to have mastered it.”  
“I just got really mad. I consider Owen a friend-”  
“So now we’re friendzoning him?” the President’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “Forgive me. I’m Stanford Wilson, Owen’s older brother.”  
“As I was saying, I didn’t like it very much when Owen broke my ribs.”  
“A typical reaction.” he said. “For a very… abnormal teenage girl, you have very normal emotions.”  
At that moment, sirens went off, and the office was bathed in red light. Stanford shot out of his seat, grabbed a gun holster that must’ve been hidden in a drawer, and sprinted to the door. “Stay here. That’s an order.” And just like that, I was locked in.

*******************************

For such a tech-savvy institution, the Silver Society should’ve invested in Sorcery-proof locks.   
I was able to get myself out in about five minutes after using the Push motion for a while. I left the office and looked around. There was blood on the walls, floor, ceiling, everywhere. I saw body parts, bodies, other disgusting... things. There was screaming from the direction of the Quad. I broke into a run, hoping to save whomever was making the noise. I was too late, of course. By the time I got there, both soldiers were dead; the Irisean Red and the Silver Society’s very own Juliette Gallagher. Another bout of seething rage burned in my chest, the kind you get when someone kicks your dog.   
The kind that makes you want revenge.   
I let loose the Vocal Panic. All enemy warriors within a mile of me dropped dead.  
I had just won a war for the Silver Society.

The aftermath of the war was devastating. 3,857 Silver Society members had given their lives. 3,857 out of 6,521. That left only 2,664 Silvers, and half of them aren’t old enough to be warriors. I was told an exile would be held in the Quad, so I left the silent sanctuary of my dorm and walked there.   
I turned a corner. What I saw next, I didn’t want to put in writing. Liv Maris, whom I’d not quite been friends nor enemies with, was kneeling, facing a huge audience. Caroline, who looked like she might start crying, was reading something off a piece of paper. “‘Turn to the left. You will find a tunnel with security guards. The current password is snowball.’ Olivia Maris, I charge you with betraying the sacred laws of the Silver Iris, giving away the Society, and selling out Certified Vocal Panic.” A hooded man swung the whip. I turned away. Liv screamed in agony. “You are hereby exiled from the Society. If you are seen here again you will be shot on sight. May these scars remind you of your crimes.” 

I never saw Liv again.


	6. Chapter 6

Stanford, Owen, Caroline and I were devising a way to get into the palace unnoticed and unapprehended.   
“Look,” Owen said. “Assassination is messy business. Especially for the Royal family. I say we get Lily contacts. Then she gets in, kills them, and gets out.”  
“But do I have to kill them?” I asked hesitantly. Even if Ashlynn hadn’t been kind to me last time I had seen her, I knew I didn’t want that on my conscience.   
“We’ve been through this before, Lily,” Stanford said a bit impatiently. “The Royal family trusts you. For all Ashlynn knows, your eyes were just a trick of the light. You’re the only one here with security clearance.” He leaned over the table. “And don’t you want to avenge Juliette?”   
The same ice cold emptiness that I associated with grief lodged in my heart. It was my fuel in this scenario. “Of course,” I said a little too forcefully. “She died too young. But Ashlynn is the same age as she was. If I kill her I’m no better than them.”  
“She has a point,” Owen whispered. He was sitting next to me, and scooted closer. He took my hand. It sent electricity through my fingers. I squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.   
“Lily shouldn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want to.”  
“Thanks, Owen,” I said quietly.   
“We could disguise another blonde,” mused Caroline.  
“Name one you trust enough for a mission of this importance,” I demanded.  
“Of course, Li-”   
“Liv,” I finished “was exiled for betraying the Society.”  
“I was going to say Lydia, as in Lydia Howe.”  
“Lydia who?” Stanford asked.  
Caroline elbowed him. “Lydia Howe. Her hair is only a shade darker than yours, and she’s a fully trained assassin. I can get her fixed up in no time-”  
“Except she died in the invasion,” Owen said softly.   
Caroline swore. “I’m sorry Lily, but we’re exhausting our options. There’s hair dye, but none with your exact shade, and there’s makeup, but not plastic surgery here.”  
“I understand,” I had to put a brave face on for Owen’s sake. We’d grown a lot closer since the invasion, as we’d both lost a good friend. “I’ll do everything within my ability.”  
“Excellent,” said Stanford. “We’ll get you better trained in no time, and then you’ll be off.”  
“Just make it fast before I get cold feet,” I mumbled. 

*******************************

Less than two weeks later, I was ready. I had blue contacts fitted, weapons at the ready, and my Sorcery was definitely at a high. I had a gun strapped to my right thigh under my loose silk pants with ammunition in my pocket. I had a knife fastened to my left bicep beneath my three quarter sleeves, and a watch that had a special pin when I yanked the time-changer. But most importantly, I had perfected the Vocal Panic. I could control whether I wanted my victims dead or knocked out (and if so, for how long). My hair was in a ponytail, and the hair tie that was holding it was spiked in one area so I could use it as a dart or missile. I had twenty more ties in my other pocket and a regular tie around my wrist.   
I would be dropped off a half mile away from the city, and from there I’d walk. In a van less than a block away from the Palace, armed soldiers ready to back me up were surveying the situation via every available television server.   
The walk to the city was a lot less painful after the American Ninja Warrior training. I was there by 10:00 am, and it took another ten minutes to get to the Palace. I walked in, confidence never shaking, and entered the Foyer. The King and Queen were in the library, and they never knew what hit them. I hid my gun again and started toward Ashlynn’s wing with the help of a confused slave girl. I slipped into her bedroom, mostly undetected, pulled out my gun and loaded it. Ashlynn was nowhere in sight. I sighed. I layed down on top of her bed and slid the pistol under the pillow. It would be a faster maneuver, and I’d have less time to lose my nerve. I waited. And waited. After twenty minutes, Ashlynn walked into her bedroom and, from what I saw, nearly had a heart attack when she saw me.   
“Ashlynn, old friend,” I said breezily, sitting up. “How’ve you been, my dear?”  
She regarded me cautiously. Her hair was wet; she must’ve been in her shower. “Good,” she said quietly. “Have you seen Mom and Dad?” she asked.  
My stomach flipped over with guilt. “I think the slave said they were in the library,” I answered.   
“Oh,” Ashlynn muttered, and turned around towards her walk in closet..  
I removed the gun from under the pillow and cocked the bullet. Ashlynn spun around angrily.   
“I knew it! You killed my parents and now you’re out to kill me!” she dropped to the floor and hit a button. “ASSASSIN,” she yelled. That’s when I pulled the trigger.   
Not two moments later three guards streamed into her room. I took the first two out without too much trouble, but one of them had obviously had better training, and I had already run out of ammo. I swore and threw the knife at him. It lodged in his stomach. He fell, and I retrieved the knife. I knew there would be more soldiers coming, so I ran toward the window and looked down. It was a three story drop; there would be no way I’d survive if I jumped.  
If there hadn’t been a trampoline below the window for some reason.  
I looked down, closed my eyes, and let my body sway and fall.   
I hit the trampoline with a force that almost ripped right through it. Up through the air again I went; this time I was able to steady myself. Once I was upright I noticed a current of blood streaming from my nose. It hurt, a lot. Since I had finally stopped bouncing, I ripped off a piece of my pant leg and tried to stop the bloodflow. I sprinted off the trampoline and out of the Palace gardens. I kept that pace as I left the grounds and finally reached the van that would get me out of the city. I knew I would never be allowed there again, at least not living, until the entire Monarchy was obliterated. I got in, strapped the seat belt, and we drove, screeching onto the road and to the Society.

*******************************

Owen was sitting next to me in the van. He was assessing a bullet wound in my thigh that I hadn’t noticed until he pointed it out. My nose was broken, it would be permanently crooked, and I had chipped my front tooth.   
“No sign of infection,” he said quietly. “You’ll be in physical therapy for about a month, and no training until you’re ready. You’ll probably need a blood transfusion.”  
I sighed, already lightheaded from blood loss. “Just stay with me until I recover?” I hardly knew what I was saying.  
“I promise,” Owen whispered, and I was out like a light.


	7. Chapter 7

I woke up on a soft bed, nose and leg throbbing, various small cuts all over my body stinging. I blinked. I wasn’t wearing the contacts anymore, which meant someone had taken them out for me. I tried to sit up, which was accompanied by a sharp wave of nausea and fatigue.   
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice murmured in my ear. I jumped, which jostled the IV in my arm. I looked to my left, which was where the voice has come from. Owen, who looked like he hadn’t slept at all for a week, was sitting on a chair next to my bed. Or, at least, I thought it was my bed.  
“Where am I?” I asked drowsily.   
“We’re in the Boys’ Dorms. I didn’t know where else to take you, and Caroline just said ‘somewhere safe,’ and I figured my room was the safest place you could be…” his voice trailed off. “I’d never seen you without cosmetics before,” he muttered; he probably thought I wouldn’t hear.   
I blushed. “Sorry, I probably look like trash-”  
“Nah, it’s fine.”  
“What happened while I was out?” I asked.  
“You’ve been unconscious for forty-three hours. The Royal family’s bodies were recovered. You’re now a wanted criminal. Needless to say, confidentiality ends with death. The Queen’s therapist and advisor both said she knew of some serious scandals deep in the Royal lineage. For example, the Queen was not Ashlynn’s biological mother. Stuff like that. The entire monarchy is unraveling. No one wants such a polluted title.”  
“That’s a good thing, right?”  
“A very good thing. It makes it a lot easier to re-establish democracy.”  
“Oh,” we were quiet for a while.  
“Lily?”  
“Yeah?”  
“You’re dad was brought in for questioning earlier this morning. We have no word of how much he could’ve given away. All we know is the cops are getting dangerously close to the Society’s headquarters.”  
“My dad was interrogated?” I nearly yelled.  
Owen glanced nervously at the heart monitor, which was going faster now that I was upset. I tried to calm down for his sake. “Does your father have any means of contacting you? Like, at all?”  
“None.”   
“Good,” he started unhooking the tubes from various outlets on me, and helped me stand. I realized I was still wearing the clothes from the mission. They were ratty and torn, but I refused to throw them away. They were with me when I lost my childhood. They should stay with me a little longer.   
I went back to my room and changed into a black baggy t-shirt and dark torn jeans, which suited my mood today. I didn’t try to put on any makeup; it wasn’t like I had anyone to impress. I ate breakfast. I went back to physical therapy. I ate lunch. I trained lightly. I ate dinner. I went back to Owen’s room to hang out; he was the only person worth talking to, the only person who understood.  
I went through that same routine for almost two weeks when Owen finally spoke up.  
“If you don’t shape up I’m telling Caroline you need to go back into full training,” he said during one of my evening visits.  
“But I’m not recovered yet!” I whined.  
“Even if you’re not recovered, you need to get out more. You’re so pale these days…” he grabbed my hand. “I’m just worried about you, Lil. I think you’re depressed.”  
I squeezed his palm gently. “It’s not your fault. It’s just… Juliette was the kind of person that was your light. That light’s gone out, and now I guess I’m lacking Vitamin D.”  
Owen scooted closer to me and pushed a stray hair behind my ear.   
What I did next, I didn’t even register until he returned the gesture. Suddenly, I was kissing him, and he was kissing me back, and nothing else in the world mattered. The sun itself could’ve gone out and I wouldn’t have cared as long as Owen and I stayed the same.   
That didn’t last, of course. A knock on the door sent us both into a startled frenzy. We both shot up from our seats, bumping our foreheads together.  
“Sorry,” I muttered, rubbing the spot.   
Owen grinned, also, touching the place on his head where ours collided. “It’s okay,” he muttered, opening the door. Standing in the doorway was an ever-tired looking Stanford, with a wild look in his eyes.   
“What’s going on?” I asked.  
“Caroline has proposed we take back Irisea! I can’t believe it--they’ve already nearly decimated our ranks--I need a plan--scouts--assassins--diversions--”  
“Slow down,” Owen said soothingly. “We know you get the last word anyway, I mean, if you don’t think it’s a good idea--”  
“That’s exactly the problem!” Stanford threw his hands up, as if in surrender. “It is a good idea, but at the same time it’s absolutely terrible!”  
“Then let’s do it,” I said.  
The sudden silence was deafening.   
“What?” Owen asked, his voice barely above a whisper.  
“I said, ‘then let’s do it’. It’s not like we have a lot to lose. If we win, boom, democracy, no eye discrimination. If it looks like we’re losing, then we retreat,” I said. “It’s pretty simple to me.”  
Stanford sat on the bean bag chair in the corner, rubbing his left eyebrow in stress.. “We’d need a fleet of assassins, you’d probably be at the head, Lily,” he paused. “We’d have to train at least a dozen more soldiers… that could take months…” his voice trailed away.   
“I’ll do the training. Lily can help me. We can each take six, we’ll be ready in two weeks tops,” Owen volunteered. “I can also be a part of the fleet.”  
“Owen,” Stanford warned, “remember the last time I sent you on a mission like this?”  
“Not in front of her, Stan,” Owen’s eyes darted over to me.  
“You can tell me, Owen,” I said quietly.  
“Later,” he said dismissively.   
“Anyways,” Stanford interrupted, “I’ll hand pick the soldiers. Owen, if you do feel so compelled to go on this mission, by all means, I can’t stop you, so fine.”

*******************************

Two weeks later, I was leading thirteen people to a place I classified as “worse than hell”. We each had a backpack with enough supplies to last a single human being over a week, two if we rationed food and water. Everyone had a concealed set of throwing knives, a pistol, a walkie-talkie, and extra ammunition. I wasn’t worried. We each had a target, and mine was the Prime Minister, James Portugas. Owen’s was the Duke and his wife. A dozen assorted other soldiers ranging from age fourteen to thirty were backing us up, taking out every person of Royal lineage we could find. The children would be rounded up and trained as soldiers in the Silver Society, despite their lack of magic abilities. There would be no survivors.  
I was to break into the Portugas home, kill the man as quietly as possible, and leave. I was instructed to leave no witnesses; if his kids saw I’d just abduct them.  
I snuck up to the monster of a house, watching every step for tripwires. I got to their backdoor without difficulty, and disabled the alarm with a flick of my fingers. I twisted the knob and opened the door, hinges creaking. I knew my way around this house by heart, having memorized the blueprints. I began up the stairs, wincing as the stair groaned. I kept going up, knowing there were security cameras but not caring because I was already wanted. When I finally reached the master bedroom, I had my gun at the ready and a knife at my hip. I tried the door. Locked. I cursed, and picked the lock with a spare bobby pin. This was certainly not part of the plan. I opened the door as quietly as I could muster, crept over to the sleeping Prime Minister, and stabbed him in the chest. His eyes opened immediately, and upon seeing my face, warbled a swear word. I went to their downstair bathroom to clean the knife, and laughed upon knowing that the Prime Minister of Irisea’s last words were profanity. I left the house, re-set the alarm, and set off into the night to find Owen.


	8. Epilogue

The fleet of assassins made it back to Society without casualties. We had taken sixteen children, ranging from newborns to thirteen year olds. They wouldn’t know what hit them. The next morning, there was talk of terror attacks. The news channel was livid, describing our squad as “savage, untamable terrorists”. I guess it wasn’t too far off, after all, in the last month twenty people held to any government standards were assassinated. It was easy for us to take over the city. Nobody was there to command anyone, and no one really wanted to die, so they practically surrendered the moment we marched in. Only a few military men tried to fend us off, but to no avail. I was shortly reunited with my father, who was just about ready to ground me for the rest of my life. That didn’t happen, as one could guess, as I now considered the Society my home. I stayed there, but came home a couple times a month.  
Now I know you’re wondering, ‘what happened to Owen?’ I also know it’s extremely rare to stay with your first love forever, but, in short, Owen and I continued to see each other for years after the war. After ten years together, he finally popped the question, and I, without a moment’s hesitation, said yes.  
We’ve been married for three years, and have beautiful twins named Julian and Juliette, who have just entered the ‘Terrible Twos’ in June.   
And I believe the best achievement of my life is abolishing the Brown eyes slavery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it, gang. A pretty easy read, I cried when I reread the bit about Juliette. Until next time, Loves.


	9. Epilogue

The fleet of assassins made it back to Society without casualties. We had taken sixteen children, ranging from newborns to thirteen year olds. They wouldn’t know what hit them. The next morning, there was talk of terror attacks. The news channel was livid, describing our squad as “savage, untamable terrorists”. I guess it wasn’t too far off, after all, in the last month twenty people held to any government standards were assassinated. It was easy for us to take over the city. Nobody was there to command anyone, and no one really wanted to die, so they practically surrendered the moment we marched in. Only a few military men tried to fend us off, but to no avail. I was shortly reunited with my father, who was just about ready to ground me for the rest of my life. That didn’t happen, as one could guess, as I now considered the Society my home. I stayed there, but came home a couple times a month.  
Now I know you’re wondering, ‘what happened to Owen?’ I also know it’s extremely rare to stay with your first love forever, but, in short, Owen and I continued to see each other for years after the war. After ten years together, he finally popped the question, and I, without a moment’s hesitation, said yes.  
We’ve been married for three years, and have beautiful twins named Julian and Juliette, who have just entered the ‘Terrible Twos’ in June.   
And I believe the best achievement of my life is abolishing the Brown eyes slavery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it, gang. A pretty easy read, I cried when I reread the bit about Juliette. Until next time, Loves.


End file.
